


Body Swap

by Hunter_inthe_tardis



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 12:22:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15841221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hunter_inthe_tardis/pseuds/Hunter_inthe_tardis
Summary: This was from a challenge I forgot to post after getting sick. It’s mediocore but whatevs





	Body Swap

Characters: Dean

Words: 669

Warnings: None

@spnwritingchallenge March prompt Body Swap @bossypantsdance vs @rosemoonweaver

A/N: I had to watch a lot of videos of Dean waking up, you know, for research. I decided to make this a drabble, since I struggle to keep things under 2k. I also started like 3 versions of this prompt and didn’t like any of them, so I hope y’all enjoy this one. 

Dean woke up feeling worn down, which wasn’t uncommon after a hunt. His back hurt from the crappy motel bed and he tried to roll over to twist and crack it. It was then he realized how badly his hip ached and how stiff his spine was. 

“Uragghh” he moaned. “Man, I must’a taken a harder hit than I thought last night. Everything hurts.”

Dean raised his hand to wipe the sleep from his eyes and noticed that his fingers felt clammy and cold, and the skin around his eyes felt loose. 

“Sammy, dude, I feel like shit today.” Dean sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, dangling his feet. 

As he went to roll his shoulder blades back to clear the kinks and loosen them, his right shoulder caught and wouldn’t complete the rotation. He drew his raised his left hand to massage the kinks in the right side of his body, gripping the shoulder while rotating his arm. It felt smaller than normal and he couldn’t quite get it to roll right. 

“Fuck man, I am beat.” Dean placed his hands on his usually strong thighs pushing them down to his knees. It hurt to push on his legs that hard. Thinking back, the only time Dean had felt so shitty without a good reason was when he caught the flu a few years ago and had been knocked down for about 4 days in Tusla. 

“Sam, I think I have the flu again.” Dean rubbed his face and started to wonder why Sam wasn’t responding. He figured his brother was probably out for a run or in the shower, the damn health nut. 

Sighing, Dean went to run his fingers through his short locks only to find that his hair wasn’t the short thick mane it normally was. Instead it was soft, thin, and longer than it had ever been before, with some curl to it. 

“What the hell?!” Dean got up, only to find that his legs couldn’t support him. Before collapsing to the floor, he caught himself on the bed and looked around the room, taking it in for the first time since waking. 

It was beige, everything was so beige. Dean looked around the room starting with the wall across from the foot of his bed. The dresser across the way was institutional; it was covered in a vinyl cream formica with rounded plastic handles, in the corner next to it was a hard plastic chair. The window adjacent to the wall had a ledge that held wilting flowers and deflating balloons, along with a few pictures of people he didn’t recognize.

As Dean grasped the bed cover to hold himself up, he drew his gaze around two the opposite corner of the bed, to the bedside table. There was an unremarkable lamp with a plain white shade and an old timey picture of a young couple at their wedding. At the other side of the twin bed there was a walker. A Walker.

“What the fuck is going on?” Dean crab crawled himself to the walker and used it to raise himself up somewhat upright. One he was up, he was able to scoot the walker a few inches at time, over to the entrance of the room where a small mirror hung on the wall.

As Dean approached the mirror he was gradually able to make out his reflection; wispy white curly hair haloed a pale aged face, with round dark, clouded eyes. Closer to the mirror he was able to see the wrinkles leading from the face down the neck and to the collar of a pink fleece housecoat. 

I am an old lady. Shit. Dean thought.

“SAM!!!!” Dean hollered. “Sammy?!” The voice coming from his throat was raspy and high pitched but he was desperate to find his brother and get this resolved. 

“Mrs. Johnson?” A young blond, fully bodied woman ran around the corner dressed in Scooby-Doo scrubs. “Mrs. Johnson, who is Sam?”


End file.
